Of Aiyis and Alligators

There is nothing quite a comical as trying to communicate with someone that you absolutely don’t understand. Case in point, my aiyi, Lin. I met her yesterday when she rang the bell to my apartment promptly at 8 a.m. Good start. I managed to use the internet to translate a note in Chinese, which may or may not have been what I intended to say and showed that to her while pointing to things in the apartment in a meaningful way. I was successful in communicating “please use the money in the drawer to buy laundry soap,” and “refill my water cooler.” I was less successful in trying to have my refrigerator magically fill with chopped fruit. Next time. I also tried to get her to tell me how to say goodbye in Cantonese, but that was a dismal freak show. I said goodbye in English and pointed to myself then back to her. She said goodbye back to me in English and looked at me in a very puzzled way as I repeated this behavior for the next 45 seconds. I’m going to have to learn how to say goodbye somewhere else. As I didn’t have to be anwhere until 9:15 but found myself in completely awkward situation as I had already said goodbye quite ineffectively, I fled the apartment as Lin needed to do her thing without me trying to be super mime. It was 8:05. Fortunately, or not, depending on how you look at it, I have a McDonald’s on the ground floor. There is plenty of Coke Zero in GZ, so I got one of those and read a book for an hour while listening to Norah Jones and Louis Armstrong playing in the background.
My next task consisted of visiting the police station to register my presence here in GZ. That involved one of the ladies from the office doing a lot of talking with the man behind the desk while I smiled and nodded at what seemed to be the appropriate times in a polite but not obnoxious way. I’m still not sure if I am registered, as my landlord was not there and apparently that was an integral part of the process, which led to even more negotiating. The form also had to be filled out twice as the use blue ink was not acceptable. After much smiling, nodding and talking we were told we were done and headed out to another police station to engage in a similar process. It seemed to work, and hopefully I am now officially registered, as that seems essential.
In the afternoon the new faculty was taken on a shopping trip to Metro, a German owned warehouse store chain much like Sam’s Club. I immediately filled my cart. No, really, immediately, as I found a microwave, giant toaster oven and a slow cooker in the first few minutes. It put a dent in my ability to get other things, but I was determined not to be thwarted in my resolve to bake in China. I wandered through the rest of the mammoth store looking for things that would rest on top of my appliances and eventually made my way to the seafood section, where I saw the craziest thing I have ever seen in a grocery store. There it was, packed in ice, a headless but otherwise clearly recognizable alligator for about $7 a pound. My eyes popped out of my head a little bit like a cartoon character. This was even crazier than the smiling goats, skinned but for their happy faces, in the meat case in Venezuela. I had to ask a few other people if they had seen it, as I didn’t quite believe it myself, but there it was. I didn’t get any to bring home to try out in my microwave, oven or crock pot. I am certain alligator would be best prepared in a crock pot. So far, China has not failed to disappoint. Next stop, IKEA. Nothing says China like IKEA.